


Dog and Pony Show

by helsinkibaby



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The West Wing
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 01:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14706887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: Joe West walks into a bar and meets Donna Moss





	Dog and Pony Show

**Author's Note:**

> Set pre series for The Flash and about a week before the season four opener for The West Wing

"Is this seat taken?"

The woman at the bar - a tall, willowy blonde - snaps her head around to look at Joe, her eyes narrowing in what looks like suspicion. Quickly realising that she's got hold of the wrong end of the stick, Joe holds up one hand. "I promise," he says, "I'm not trying to hit on you, you don't even have to talk to me if you don't want to. I just want to sit down for ten minutes and have a quiet drink. I swear." 

Somewhere in the middle of his ramble, her lips had begun to curve in a smile. When he finishes, she waves at the empty barstool beside hers. "Be my guest." He nods tersely, flags down the barman and orders a shot of bourbon. Just one, he swears, then he's dragging his ass home. He's surprised when the woman speaks. "Rough day?" He glances at her, one eyebrow raised and she shrugs as she leans her chin on her hand. "You said I didn't have to talk to you if I didn't want to, but..." She shrugs. 

Joe sighs, sips his bourbon. He really doesn't want to talk about the day he's had today. And yet, the words come out of his mouth anyway. "I'm a cop," he tells her and he can see her steeling herself for whatever he's about to say next. "We got called to a domestic disturbance... same house as we got called to last week, and the week before that." He shakes his head. "Husband using the wife as a punching bag, the neighbours called 911 because either she or the kids were screaming... and she lies for him. Said she won't press charges even though..." Another sip of bourbon does nothing to wash the bitter taste out of his mouth. "He's going to kill her one day... and we won't be able to do a damn thing to stop him." 

"That's awful." 

She sounds like she means it, even if he knows he's taking his more personally than he should. "I had a friend..." He stumbles on the word because he still can't understand what happened, how he didn't see the warning signs. "He killed his wife last year. I got called to that scene too." 

Her face twists up like it's in pain. "I'm sorry." 

Joe shakes his head. "Then we get back to the precinct and people don't know if they're coming or going because of this damn Presidential visit..." He stops talking when he sees her freeze almost imperceptibly, sees her shift on her seat and move her right arm like she's trying to hide something. He looks a little closer, sees a lanyard around her neck and his stomach drops. "You're with the campaign, aren't you?" 

Her smile is huge, but apologetic. "Donna Moss," she says, holding out her hand. "And yes... I work at the White House." 

"Joe West." He shakes her hand, tries not to let his embarrassment show. "I didn't mean..."

"Yes you did, and you're right too. The whole dog and pony show that goes on when the President is in town, it's a nightmare to organise, on both ends." Her smile widens, her eyes dancing with mirth. "You're just the first person to say it to my face." 

He knows she's teasing him, feels safe enough to tease her back a little. "So you're not going to get me locked up for treason then?"

Donna shakes her head. "Oh, the President only invokes that if you make fun of Notre Dame; I think you're safe enough." 

She's talking like she knows that for sure, like she has personal knowledge of President Bartlet's particular foibles. Joe's curiosity is piqued. "So what is it you do?" 

"I'm Josh Lyman's personal asssistant." Joe frowns and she looks heavenward. "Sorry, I sometimes forget we're not in Washington. He's the Deputy Chief of Staff-"

"I know who he is." Joe speaks without thinking. "He's the one who got-" His brain catches up with his mouth right about the time she looks down, her smile freezing on her face. 

"Yes," she says quietly. "Yes, he is." 

Joe wants to bite off his tongue, remembers what it was like that night. He'd been off work, for a miracle, himself and Iris and Barry settled down in front of the television when the show Barry and Iris had finally agreed on had gone off the air, replaced by breaking news about the assassination attempt on the President. He'd sent the kids up to bed earlier than usual - Barry did not need to hear any reports of violence and murder, the kid had suffered enough - but he'd stayed up until the wee small hours of the morning following the news reports. It had sickened him - how much worse must it have been for her. 

"I'm sorry." She looks up, gives him a quick, tight smile. "I didn't think." 

"It's ok." He doesn't call her on the lie. "It wasn't the easiest of times... but it's in the past." The white knuckles around her glass of wine tell another story. "We have a whole new set of problems now." 

Which is one way of talking about the President hiding a degenerative neurological disease from the voting public, Joe thinks. He chuckles without humour. "So that's why you guys are dragging this dog and pony show around town? Trying to get people to forget the disclosure?" 

"Something like that. Whistle stops tours around the battleground states... Florida last week, Star City two weeks before that, Indiana next week... Show them he's healthy... trying to get them to remember why they voted for him in the first place." She narrows her eyes then, looks him up and down. "You're not a Ritchie voter, are you?" 

This time, Joe doesn't chuckle, he full on belly laughs and he means it because he can't think of any circumstances where Robert Ritchie would get his vote. "I'm black, I'm a cop and I'm a single father," he says flatly when he can speak again. "No, I'm not a Ritchie voter." 

Donna heaves a sigh of obvious relief. "Oh thank God." Then she's serious again. "You told me the truth about this dog and pony show already... Can ask you a question?" He nods and her fingers tighten around the stem of her glass. "Do you think it'll work? Do you think people will ever forgive the lie?"

Joe's stomach twists for reasons he'll never tell her, or anyone. "People lie all the time," he says slowly. "Sometimes, even for a good reason. And if it's done for a good reason... I think people can forgive. No matter how hurt they might feel at first." It's not what he thinks as much as what he hopes, but she doesn't need to know the difference. 

"Yeah," she says softly. "I agree." 

They share a moment of silence, broken by a man's voice calling her name. "Donnatella!" They both turn, Joe looking over his shoulder to see a man with wild curly hair holding open the bar door, looking at Donna and studiously ignoring him. "Time to go... Unless you want to get left behind." 

"Be right there." Donna takes another tiny sip of her wine glass, lays it on the table with a regretful expression. "Probably a bad look if I take it to go, right?" she says as she stands and Joe tilts his head curiously. 

"They'd really go without you?" he asks and she laughs lightly as she shakes her head. 

"No. But Josh has a flair for the dramatic." She grabs her coat. "It was nice to meet you, Joe." 

"You too." He grins. "Good luck with the dog and pony show." 

Her smile is the brightest thing he's seen in days. "Thanks... I think we're going to need it." 

Joe considers it for a second. "I think you'll be fine." Because sure, people might be angry but a choice between Jed Bartlet and Robert Ritchie for President is no choice at all. 

Donna's hand falls on his shoulder. "We both will," she says and then she is gone and all he can do is hope that she's right.


End file.
